Take Me (Seriously)
by Despaired Author
Summary: At first glance, Serge Battour seems to be the model student, the one every other student both admires and envies. What Gilbert Cocteau discovers, however, is how the other side to his personality is the complete opposite. (A.K.A. The character role swap that no one asked for but has kept the author awake at night for nearly two years)
1. Chapter 1

**Synopsis:** At first glance, Serge Battour seems to be the model student, the one every other student both admires and envies. What Gilbert Cocteau discovers, however, is how the other side to his personality is the complete opposite. (A.K.A. The character role swap that no one asked for but has kept the author awake at night for nearly two years)

 **In Other Words:** Slutty!Serge (Gilbert-esque!Serge) and Good-Morals!Gilbert (Serge-esque!Gilbert), but they still maintain bits and pieces of their original characters

 **Author's Note:** If I have to come onto this website to post a Kaze to Ki no Uta fanfic once a year just to keep this archive from dying, then by gods I will. I've even gone a step further and plan on making this a multi-chapter story. Other than that, enjoy!

* * *

The shadows welcome anyone who welcomes them. If you make peace with the shadows, they may become your greatest ally. They will bring cooling shade when the sun becomes overbearing. They will give shelter within them when you wish to hide. They will shield you from whatever problems you may face while exposed to the light.

While they do provide useful cover, there is a downside to an alliance with them. Once you take cover, you are left vulnerable to any dangers within the darkness that may lurk around. The most deadly threat to you within the shadows, if not anything else, is yourself. Being left alone with only your thoughts in a place where nothing else can be visibly seen can prove to be self-destructive at times.

Fortunately for Gilbert, he's spent enough years co-existing with the shadows to know how self-destructive his thoughts can be. With not many people to turn to, the shadows became the closest he's ever had to a friend, and his thoughts were his only source of entertainment that he consistently took interest in.

 _What sort of things will I think of today?_

 _Am I going to be questioning my existence again?_

 _How long do I have until there's no need for me to waste space?_

 _... God, I'm not even worth listening to myself, am I?_

Yes, many of his thoughts are self-deprecating, but it's better than being left with silence sometimes. As much as silence is necessary for taking the time to find himself or understand his thoughts, he'd rather think than leave his mind blank. He'd rather wonder about how his day will turn out instead of waiting to see how it will unfold by himself.

He's able to hear a lot from outside the darkness while he's inside it. No one pays attention to him or their surroundings in general when they whisper rumors and reveal secrets. He's witnessed people turn against each other or even seek a hiding place to conceal whatever actions need concealing. And every now and then, he would catch word about himself.

 _"Did you hear? There's a new student coming next week."_

 _"The head of the Class B students Karl Meiser said he'll be a transfer student who grew up in Tyrol as a child."_

 _"Isn't that in Austria?"_

 _"Right! Maybe he speaks both German and French!"_

 _"Ah, but you know what this means, don't you? Gilbert Cocteau's finally going to get a roommate. He's been in Room 17 as the odd one out until now."_

Gilbert didn't think much of it. He doesn't need to have anything to do with whoever this transfer student, who will double as his future roommate, may be. People should be capable of coexisting with each other as long as they are able to not be a bother to one another. There wouldn't even be a need to get along with this person as long as he didn't annoy him.

In a way, there's a benefit to choosing to predict the future than to watch it play out. However, there was no way he would have been able to see how his soon-to-be roommate would change his preferred life in an alliance with the shadows.

* * *

The first thing Gilbert recognized after returning to his room from breakfast was a head of short, raven black curls. Then he noticed tanned skin, noticeably out of place in a place like France. It wasn't until that raven head turned that he met eyes that reminded him of a doe - large, bright, innocent-looking, with a chocolaty color to them.

"Oh, am I your roommate?"

And _that voice_. It matched those eyes and that gentle beam now across his room's intruder's lips. So sweet and warm like sunshine...

... It's only been a minute since he opened his door and he was already annoyed.

"You wouldn't be in my room if you weren't," he muttered a reply, loud enough for the other to hear. Closing the door, he strode to his desk to pick up his satchel of school materials, looking back upon turning around to face the boy again after slinging the strap through his head and arm. "Gilbert Cocteau. So, I heard you can speak German."

As if expecting to hear that, the smile only grew brighter, and Gilbert's mood only turning more sour on the inside. " _Guten tag, Gilbert, mein name ist Serge Battour. Ich hoffe, dass wir miteinander auskommen._ " He couldn't speak German, but he did understand him enough to know now that his name is Serge. It sounded like an okay name, at the very least.

Out of courtesy, he held out a hand. Serge, however, only stared down at the gesture.

"Why do you hold out your left hand?"

"I am left-handed."

"... I see."

Serge grabbed his hand, eyeing briefly how his skin contrasted with that of pale tones which he was touching, before locking his gaze upon Gilbert again. The latter was impressed, for the former chose to grab his left hand with his _right_. The smile thinned out to be more so that the teeth were not as visible as before.

"You can tell I know already, that a left-handed handshake is a means of saying goodbye."

Gilbert allowed a satisfied grin to rest on his lips, pulling his hand away. "Don't get in my way, and I won't get in yours. Need any help getting to your first class?"

"The dorm head Karl Meiser will be showing me around, but thanks. Maybe we'll have some classes together."

"Let's hope." _Let's not._ "Oh, and, welcome to Lacombrade Academy." He left the room, then, leaving the noirette to finish unpacking his luggage.

* * *

Serge apparently had the right mind to hope in his stead. Out of the classes they took, there was only one class where they were _not_ together. Gilbert called it beginner's luck, but knew it wouldn't last. Having suddenly transferred in the beginning of the middle of the school year, it wouldn't be long before the transfer student's classes were to change, and they would be out of each other's hair.

Or at least, that's what Gilbert thought.

Two months passed before either of them knew it. Serge mostly comes to him for advice about the school or about class work or homework on the days he's absent, but it didn't seem like he needed much help as soon as he got into the charts for the top academic students in their class. He became popular among his classmates and those of the other classes, sometimes being crowded by anyone with questions of all kinds - "What kind of studying habits do you have?" "Can you help me with this?" "Are you available for tutoring?"

It's come as a surprise that he's refused to be placed in a large group of friends. He's only become the best friend of the dormitory director Karl and Pascal Biquet, a young man who's been held back so many years that Karl is the only one who's convinced him to join the latter in graduating with him; otherwise, he would have possibly been in his twenties were he to finally choose to leave the academy. Even with those two, Serge seemed to enjoy going off on his own, exploring the school grounds when he wasn't busy, and only reappeared for meals in the cafeteria or returning from giving tutoring sessions to whoever asks.

Despite being invited to Arles during the one day a month where the students are allowed to leave the school grounds during those two months, he would always decline. Gilbert thought nothing of it, as he chose to stay at school as well, and was content with having Room 17 all to himself. Other than the insisted homework sessions with his roommate and nightly roll calls before bed, he rarely saw the latter, so he found simple contentment in the living arrangements. They were going along with his proposal on the day they met where they stayed out of each other's way.

He only ever needed the shadows to keep him company, anyways. When the day came for the students to ride carriages out to Arles, he arranged for himself to be curled up in a dark corner where two walls met inwards in the outdoors. A book assigned by his literature class in his lap, he took to reading with his back against the corner in silence. The darkness shaded him from the autumn sunshine and the wind barely bothered him. If he only had one qualm, it would have to be that sometimes, the wind carries people's voices.

"You were a great help to me today, Serge."

"Ah, thank you, Monsieur Blough."

"Please, just Max is fine by me."

Gilbert flashed his gaze upward from his book to find Serge and Max Blough from Class A strolling along the building, still far from where he sat, hidden by the darkness of the walls' shadows and that of a bush that covered him. He didn't know much about the latter, only that he still had two years left of school before he would have to start applying for universities next year. From what he's read for the chart of students by class level and their academic performances, Blough has fair grades, but lacked in one or two of the subjects he studied.

Was he really so dense in whatever those classes were that he had to enlist an underclassman for help?

"But as my upperclassman, I should be formal," Serge then rebutted. "You may have been my student for a brief time today, but we should remain on terms by our class."

"Believe me, Serge, those terms won't exist between us."

They walked closer towards Gilbert's hiding place, prompting the blond to curl up further to make himself smaller. His already thin frame made this easier for him to do. He watched them stop only a couple meters away from where he sat. Serge set his book bag down on the grass and pressed his back up against the stone wall behind him. Blough did the same before placing his hands on either side above Serge's head to overshadow him. With the trees and bushes behind the upperclassman, they must be just as hidden away as Gilbert was.

"Calling you Max sounds too... intimate," Serge said with hesitance in his voice. When a hand larger than his own was placed on his dark-skinned cheek, a light red brought even more color to both cheeks, and his breath hitched at the same time.

In his spot, Gilbert's eyes narrowed at the sight. There was a sick feeling in his gut that told him he knew what was to happen next.

"Remember, what did you propose I give you, in exchange for your tutorage?" Max asked him in a low tone. "You said I looked like someone who had something you wanted. Isn't that right?"

The noirette's eyes seemed to darken. His shoulders slumped carelessly, and he grew lax against the wall. He nodded slowly as his eyes wandered from those of the other... and down his body. A gulp emitted from his throat.

"C-Correct."

"And you said you'd do one other thing, anything I ask, if I agree to give you what you want." Now closer, Max blew lightly into his ear, causing him to shiver. "Didn't you?"

"Right a-again."

Max smirked. "Call me by my first name, then. It's part of _becoming my lover_."

He made their lips smash together, the hand on Serge's cheek now pressed against his nape. Gilbert hurriedly looked around for a way out, to find that he was trapped by the large bush in front of him. Any sudden movement through it could cause the leaves to rustle and reveal his presence. He unfortunately had to resort to staying in his place and look away from the sight before him.

 _God, how inconvenient_ , he thought. _So annoying... Why did my bad luck worsen the moment I met him?_

No wonder he was annoyed by Serge the day they met in the beginning. He had this feeling that there was something _unnatural_ about that smile, something that was completely off about how polite and perfect he seemed to be in the eyes of his admirers. Adding on with his constant disappearances, the blond was too content with their living arrangement that he didn't see anything strange, or at least never looked into it.

His book forgotten in his lap, his hands over his ears did nothing to block out his roommate's moans as their kissing continued. He could also barely hear the rustling of clothes and didn't need to look over or through the bush to know they were being removed or undone. The occasional gasp told him that Max's hands must be roaming over that tanned body now, heightening what must be the shared excitement between the two of them.

Unable to muffle the noises no matter how hard he tried, he chose to bury his face in his knees to avoid accidentally looking upon the sight. He was doomed to listen to every needy moan, every whimper and whine that the wind carried his way. A few soft thumps on the ground made him predict they must be moving on with their activities in a position where they had a better chance of not getting caught.

"Another," he heard Serge groan softly. "B-Blough- _Ngh!_ Put a-a-another in already...!"

"Call me how I want you to," Max smugly replied. "Or maybe you really don't want this. Maybe you don't actually want me to get you off?"

There was a brief lack of coherent speech for a moment, just a whimper that resembled that of a starving puppy. The "puppy" in question began to pant softly, his craving possibly rising even more.

"... Max, p-please..." This time, the groans turned into submissive whining. "I need another finger, M-Max. Give it to me a- _Ah!_ Yes! Just like that!"

The quiet begging for continuing to be fingered continued for quite a time until all of the noises stopped. Gilbert decided to take the risk of lifting his head up to see if it was all finally over, only to discover that this may as well be considered the beginning. He could see Serge through the bush, shirt buttons undone and pants and undergarments stretched at his knees, relaxing in his position on all fours. Behind him sat Max on his knees, fully clothed save for the slight lowering of his own pants and underwear, pouring onto his hand what looked to be oil from a bottle. The bottle was cast aside before the oiled hand was lowered and soon hidden by Serge's body.

All that escaped Serge was a low moan when Max pushed his hips forward. They stayed in that position for a while before the latter started moving, and his head lowered until his hair covered his face as he slowly picked up the pace.

That was when green eyes met brown. Gilbert was frozen in place, but Serge never let it be known that they were being watched. Rather, he kept the other locked on him to show how blown out his pupils were and how swollen his lips were from being ravished. Every time there was an attempt to look away, he let out a moan louder than the other ones elicited from the very back of his throat, insisting without speaking that Gilbert should keep watching. To his amusement, he actually did, just because he feared that he would be found out about were Serge to tell Max.

He wasn't sure what to make of Serge's strange behavior. First he turns out to be the opposite of the person he's convinced the majority of the school to see him as, and then he seems to be enjoying having someone watch him be thrusted into. He wasn't a pervert, he didn't enjoy thinking about sex nor did he find entertainment in watching from his spot. He most certainly would have preferred going on with his life _without_ knowing this side to his roommate.

Yet, he forced himself to endure it all until the end, when Serge covered his mouth with his hand to muffle his cry once he finally came, Max following behind him with a grunt. The two cleaned themselves with a towel from his bag and dressed themselves.

"I'll see you again?" the noirette asked, completely clean, as if he didn't just have sex in the first place. The smile he had was... sickeningly innocent. He seemed satisfied by the kiss pressed against his lips, this one much gentler than the one that initiated their not-so-secret endeavor. "I'll take it as a yes."

His upperclassman left first to avoid suspicion in case anyone happened to pass by. Before he left, he stared right at Gilbert through the bush, and smirked.

And the unfortunate blond knew that he's going to need to find a new hiding spot.

* * *

"Did you enjoy the show?"

Gilbert refused to speak a word to Serge that night after dinner. He refused to do so much as look at him ever since he went back to their dorm to finish reading his book. The only time he looked at him again was by accident, when he caught sight of him walking with Max Blough towards an unoccupied table, and the latter decided to look back with that devilish smirk when it seemed no one else was looking. Since then, he turned to reading for the distraction he so desperately needed to get this afternoon's event out of his head for at least more than an hour, for it had been plaguing him as soon as he was left alone again.

"You can't ignore me forever, Gilbert," Serge said in a matter-of-fact tone. "I'm sure you're aware of that, right?"

But there was no reply. Just the loud, exaggerated flip of a page in the book that was much more interesting than forming any sort of conversation at the moment.

With a huff, said book was removed out of the pale hands that were once holding them. "Will you talk to me now?"

"And what do you expect us to talk about?" Gilbert finally bit back without looking at him. "You tutored Blough in exchange for sex, and just so happened to do it right outside where I was reading. I was at the wrong place at the time. Case closed."

There was a hum. "Actually, I'd say the timing was quite perfect."

"... What's that supposed to mean?"

Now out of his uniform and in a nightshirt, Serge appeared right beside his desk. He leaned against it whilst looking down at him. "Sex outdoors is much more exciting when there's a chance of being seen. To me, at the least."

It took a moment of processing before his words were understood. "You... knew I was there all along. You _wanted_ me to see you." He looked up at the boy leaning against his desk, who smiled in response.

"So you do have some brain cells after all!"

Flinching at the insult, he stood up and left his desk so he could change out of his own uniform. "Whatever your game is, I want no part of it. I thought we agreed to not bother each other." One by one the buttons of his shirt were removed from each hole before he removed it, and then he pulled the nightshirt that laid on his bed over himself. It was only then did he remove his trousers from underneath.

The noirette shrugged. "It wasn't as fun, having sex in rooms with people nearby. I thought I'd experiment with how easy it must be to hide outside."

"What, so I'm just a guinea pig to you? Go find someone else to partake in your exhibitonistic… voyueristic… whatever you call it… game!"

"Huh, never took you as the kind of boy to know those terms. Do _you_ have experience?"

Unable to deal with his bullshit for any longer, Gilbert grabbed his book back to place it back on his desk. He then reached for his lamp and switched it off, leaving only Serge's to bring light into their room. He climbed underneath the covers of his bed with his front side facing the wall.

"Leave me alone already. If you're expecting me to meddle in your personal life, then you're sorely mistaken, _Battour_."

Silence filled the room. For a while that was all that was heard between the two roommates. Given that Gilbert seemed done with speaking for the night, it was the other who did the talking.

"Do you think I did all of this _because_ I chose you?" There was mild anger in his voice, and a detected undertone of annoyance. Oh, so they do share mutual feelings. He scoffed. " _Trottel_... As my roommate, that is all that you are to me, nothing more and nothing less. I chose this life on my own and simply decided to drag you along for a bit, _just_ a bit, so you'll know and understand."

There was a click as his own lamp was switched off. A creak on the bed across the way, and a thump on the pillow. "Now that you're aware, we shall continue staying out of each other's business, like you want."

 _Good._

Relieved that that should be the end of the conversation, both boys fell asleep.

* * *

One more month passed, marking it three months since Serge's arrival at Lacombrade Academy. Autumn has turned into winter, and the midterm exams had everyone in a panic throughout the school. Upperclassman locked themselves up in their rooms or in the library for studying while the underclassman were mainly concerned with getting a good enough score to make the roster of students with the top grades. By this time no one was surprised to see Serge at the top of the roster with the highest score.

As for Gilbert, he didn't care too much for grades. He was smart enough to make the top twenty students, but that wasn't a big enough achievement to be recognized by anyone else. If anything, he was satisfied with not standing out too much other than for his looks, which were taken into account over the school's prettiest boys. Like the rest of the students, however, he wouldn't be too shocked if his roommate topped him in that list as well.

Midterms cleared soon enough as the snow rolled in. It covered the school grounds in heaps that once the stress of exams passed, many of the liberated students spent their leisurely days playing outside. This was the perfect way to finish off the semester before winter break would be on its way.

 _"Why don't we go to Arles together, Gilbert?"_

 _"No, I don't feel like it. Thanks for the invitation, though."_

Serge's smile this morning was unnervingly saccharine when the question came up before the two of them went down for breakfast. It wasn't like either of them went against their promise to each other. Matter of fact, the noirette's friends have often wondered aloud why they weren't as close despite being roommates; had they known the truth, Gilbert would've laughed. Rather, he'd be content enough to say that their living arrangements have remained untouched by the truth.

 _"Are you sure, Gilbert?"_

 _"I am."_

 _"Do you not like large crowds, Gilbert?"_

 _"Quite the contrary, actually."_

He'd stumped Serge by saying that. _"I like crowds, sometimes. I remember when I especially liked them when I was little, when I used to be the center of attention. My first year at this school was filled with crowds of people trying to get to know me. Now I tolerate them, because eventually I faded into the very shadows of them."_ The shadows took the place of the people who tried to be his friends, only these succeeded. He didn't need anyone else. _"You should stop talking to me, Serge. Karl and Pascal will be waiting after breakfast for you to join them, won't they?"_

 _"... You really don't want to go to Arles with me, Gilbert?"_

 _"Why must you continue calling my name at the end of each question?"_

There was a sudden spark in those deceiving doe-like eyes. He couldn't help but flinch just the slightest. _"I've been told that by using a person's name in a statement, I'll get a more positive reply that way."_

 _"It's annoying."_

 _"But you're much calmer than the last time we argued, aren't you, Gilbert?"_

Keeping silent, Gilbert turned around and had waited for Serge to leave with a defeated sigh (as well as a mutter of " _störrischer narr_ " under his breath, to which the former made a mental note to look that up later). He didn't let out a sigh of his own until he heard the door open and close with footsteps fading away from the outside. After that, he hadn't seen him anywhere around the school even before the carriages were just about to leave for town. That stubborn boy must've truly given up for the day. Good.

 _Jesus, I should file a complaint against him... It's not like it would even be considered, though. My room's the only one that's been vacant for one more until he came. The school can't afford to put him anywhere else._

He spent that day to himself without any other complications. He read his assigned book for literature for a second time, ate a quiet lunch in the empty cafeteria, and worked on his homework for the remainder of the late afternoon until students began to make their way back. By that time, he was waiting for Serge to burst into their room, that stupid smile practically permanently etched onto his face, ready to tell a story of his time in Arles.

 _Any minute now..._

 _Any second now..._

 _Any... millisecond?_

Two hours passed. Most of the students had returned by then for evening supper, yet Serge never entered the dorm. Gilbert huffed every time he took notice; why should he care? He's probably taking the long way back to school, walking and talking with his friends the entire way. Or perhaps he was already back and he chose to go straight to the cafeteria. The mention of food made was making him hungry, so he might as well eat before everyone else left behind only scraps.

He arrived at the cafeteria with wide eyes at the sight of Karl and Pascal sitting at a table by themselves. No Serge in sight. This was becoming strange; Serge only enjoyed being outside until sundown would come, and today that took place over an hour ago.

"'Serge's whereabouts'?" Karl repeated the end of Gilbert's question when the blond asked it. His dark eyes matched the confusion in his own. "He said he wanted to stay for another hour in Arles, but that was a long time ago. I would've expected him to have returned to your shared dorm first."

" _Told you_ that we shouldn't have left him alone," Pascal chided him lightly.

Karl narrowed his eyes at his friend. "He wasn't _alone_ , per se. Max Blough offered to watch over him-"

It was like a cold hand running up Gilbert's back. He fought back the urge to shudder. "Did you just say... _Max Blough_?"

"Yes, I did. He let Serge spend time with him and his friends when we happened to rest at a cafe at the same time as them, as a thanks for all of those tutoring sessions they've had together. The group made the mistake of not warning him that they were drinking alcohol when he drank some, but he seemed pretty used to it given how well he kept himself together. He was a little reluctant when Pascal and I suggested going back, though, so Blough said he'd make up for the alcohol intake in the first place by showing him around Arles some more... Why do you seem so worried about that?"

 _Oh, you poor, oblivious soul, you have no idea._

Before he could reply, Pascal spoke again. "Wouldn't blame him, Meiser. What kind of upperclassman requires the aid of an underclassman to pass his classes?"

 _For someone so intelligent, you really are an idiot._

Seeing as he had his answers now, he left the duo to their food in his reminded search for his own. He ended up having a meal that was lighter than what he planned for when he went into the cafeteria in the first place. The mere idea of what Serge was _really_ doing in Arles was enough to lessen his appetite.

Nighttime came, and twenty minutes before roll call was scheduled to take place, his roommate miraculously reared his annoying head in their bedroom. He didn't even give Serge time to explain himself as he pushed him to get dressed before one of the professors was to come by to check on everyone in their assigned building and rooms. They were punctual in standing out of their door when the time finally came.

"Heard you stayed extra late, Serge," Professor Watts said. He was a blond fairly-aged man who revealed on the transfer student's first day of school that he knew his late father Aslan Battour, and that was how Gilbert learned he was an orphan; he didn't care, though, as his own parents abandoned him, so they were unfortunately in the same boat. "Did you find yourself with a lovely lady?"

A part of Gilbert wanted to make a snide remark of how Serge found the complete opposite of a "lovely lady", but he held his tongue.

"Arles is an endearing town, so I chose to look around for a longer time with a few upperclassmen of mine," Serge explained with a friendly smile. "I suppose I was enjoying my stay for too long and lost track of time."

Unsuspecting, Watts continued down the hall, allowing the two boys of Room 17 to retire. Or, that seemed to have been the noirette's plan until his roommate grabbed at his wrist rather roughly, forcing their faces to meet each other.

"Where _the hell_ were you?" he hissed.

Serge blinked and tilted his head. "What do you mean? I stayed in Arles-"

"Like hell you did."

Soon enough, the air became thick with tension. Gilbert held his ground, yet nearly faltered when he was caught in the poison coming into light in the other's eyes. They were normally so warmly brown, so horribly sweet, that he wasn't expecting this. He watched them form a _glare_.

"What's it to you where I go?" Serge snapped at him. He suddenly twisting his arm, freeing his wrist, and kept it close to his chest. "Don't touch me, and don't go asking me of things you wouldn't even care about either!"

"And how could you possibly think I wouldn't care?!" Gilbert yelled back, even louder. "You have no idea how worried you made me. I didn't want to care, and by gods know I tried not to, but as long as you're my roommate-"

"Oh, so that's what this is about... You think you actually have a _responsibility_ over me!" He burst into a short fit of bitter laughter. "I-I can't _believe_ you! You're more of a _trottel_ than I thought!"

"Shut up!"

Now with a confident smirk, the noirette went to his bed with a skip in his step. He kept his back facing the other as he changed out of his clothes and into a nightshirt. The one staring at his back wanted real daggers to be glared into them. Whatever, he really wasn't worth his worrying after all. It was all for nothing.

"You know, Gilbert, if you had kept talking, I would've gotten the impression you have some sort of crush on me~"

It was a startling statement, but it was still scoffed at. "Please, it's not like I'm desperate for a relationship, let alone one that meant interacting with you. I can't even stand you."

"But we're roommates, so shouldn't we be getting along?"

"Not necessarily."

"In your perspective, at least. Hmm... How about this, Gilbert: let's spend some time together."

"Are you deaf-"

Serge spun around and held up a hand to silence him. "You didn't let me finish. Let's spend some time together... and we'll do whatever _you_ want."

 _Anything I want, huh? I wasn't expecting that._ "... I'm listening."

"Good. We get to do whatever you want, and we don't even have to talk as long as we're together, just as long as there's still constant contact between us. See, Gilbert? It would be in your favor."

Immediately he wanted to decline. He wasn't sure why he was even listening to this proposition in the first place. Why should he consider spending time with a pest when it made more sense to want to get rid of him? Don't get him wrong, he did want to get rid of him, albeit with the knowledge that such efforts would fail given the dormitory regulations they had to deal with.

... So, why not try it just this once? Maybe Serge would finally see that they were better off without each other. He'd understand why he was regretting his choice to worry about him.

"What do you say, Gilbert?" his roommate in question asked him.

First there was a bit of silence, but then there was a hum of consideration. "Next Saturday. Do one thing that annoys me before then, and I call it off. Understand, Battour?"

Rather than a smile, that smirk remained upon his lips. Gilbert had to admit that he preferred that expression over that stupid facade he wore in public. He bent forward into a bow, left arm behind his back as he did so, right hand reaching out to take the other's left; the blond thought nothing of it, aware that this was meant to be a joke of some sort. Tanned skin stood out against the paleness and vice versa as he pulled the hand close to his lips. " _Ich verspreche_ , Cocteau," he whispered, sealing their deal with a brush of lips to the knuckle.

Over the course of the time Serge was missing, Gilbert had found the free time to borrow a German dictionary from the library and look up some of the things he's been called lately. _Trottel_ is "fool", while _störrischer narr_ means "stubborn fool", and he would be sure to call him out on such name-calling some other time. Just now, Serge was telling him that he promised. He had no idea what exactly he would be getting himself into, and maybe he'll have to retreat to the shadows more times than usual to get over whatever he may experience, but for now he had to deal with the fact that he basically signed himself up for his own impending doom.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** I actually managed another chapter, albeit a slightly shorter one. It's a little messy, I guess you can't say, but then again Gilbert is a very complex person and so his thoughts can be all over the place. But rest assured, certain things that aren't touched on as much in this chapter will be centered on later on!

* * *

 _Auguste,_

 _You've been occasionally sending letters asking me why I haven't responded to anything in the past few months. You've asked me why I didn't come back over the summer and if I've thought of returning home for winter break. You want me to take a train back to Marseilles now that midterms are over._

 _I believe you don't understand that I don't want to see you. Or, perhaps you do, and you choose to remain stubborn until I concede. I won't, mind you, and you should know why. I felt disgusted and you saw my face that matched when you told me of your betrayal, but after you left me to think, I was relieved that you confessed. My suspicions were right on the mark up till that point. Therefore, I hope you will respect my wishes and let me finally enjoy my independence._

 _Marseilles is no longer my home. You are no longer my home. I have been without one since spring exams, however I am finding my heart remaining in Lacombrade Academy. While this place isn't my home either, I'd rather stay here than be anywhere near you._

 _I've long known since childhood that what we had was a secret I once viewed as beautiful, and despite that idea being shattered, I refuse to return to that life. One day you will come to terms that I can only see you as family now. When that happens, only then will I agree to come back._

 _Until then, you will feel the loneliness I once suffered when you weren't around._

 _\- Gilbert_

The letter never made its way into the mailing room, never into an envelope with a stamp and a written address. Rather, Gilbert kept it in a box in the back of his wardrobe filled with clothes. It became the most recent of all the other letters he's written and failed to send out.

The last time he saw Auguste Beau was back in the spring of the previous semester. Family visitation days take place a couple weeks before the final testing period every year as a way of letting students relax in the midst of studying. As for Gilbert, it was anything but relaxing. Spring had turned into a dreadful season for him last semester.

 _Whatever we had was foolish and wrong to begin with_ , he told himself. And yet, he's found himself unable to send any letters expressing his feelings to Auguste ever since they last parted ways. Whether it was out of insecurity or merely cowardice, he didn't know.

Letter now in its box in the closet, he settled with spending his time looking out the window. Snow was currently falling as several boys chased each other outside. It was Saturday, meaning no classes for the day, and many were taking advantage of that to play after breakfast. He found the white blankets to be very pretty, but he didn't like the cold enough to tolerate it for too long.

He didn't really like this cold day in particular. Today, he and Serge would be spending the day together.

Serge had kept his word to avoid doing anything to annoy him for the entire week to today. Matter of fact, he avoided him altogether. He'd already be dressed and leaving the room as soon as Gilbert would wake up, and would request to be partners with someone else if they happened to be paired together for classes. Every night, he'd quietly do his homework at his desk or come back from spending time with Max Blough without speaking about it. It was this sort of privacy the blond wished for, where there was mutual respect for each other's space.

If only his roommate thought the same thing. He didn't, of course, for otherwise they wouldn't be in this situation. That annoyed Gilbert to no end, but it didn't count towards him breaking off the arrangement they agreed to.

 _"Meet me in the music room, okay?"_

 _"I thought the deal was we'd do whatever I wanted."_

 _"You wouldn't mind doing just this one thing, right, Gilbert?"_

That was the only conversation they had today right before breakfast. Reluctantly he'd agreed, mind flooded with countless ways this could go wrong. Maybe Serge was planning to do something to him. What if he was waiting in that room for him to walk into his trap?

 _... No._ He shook his head at the thought. _Serge has been awfully good enough just to get me alone like this. As much as I hate to admit it, he's too smart to do something foolish like that._ Besides, he was already on his way to the music room as he considered the ways this day could turn out for both of them.

He wasn't expecting to hear the piano being played behind the closed doors upon his arrival. He was nowhere near a music expert, but he could tell the music was being produced by someone who had the makings to be a professional.

The melody was soft and sweet. There was this certain delicateness to the sounds reaching his ears. Closing his eyes, he stood there for a moment and dwelled on what the song made him feel - something warm, something bright... s _unlight_. Gilbert had been whisked away to a spring afternoon where the sun was gentle and he could physically sense the rays washing over his face. He's fallen asleep outside more than once during the past springtimes, and this song brought him back to those peaceful days.

 _I wonder who could be playing at this- Wait a minute._ His eyes snapped open. The moment had been lost as he did so. He had a feeling he knew just whowas behind this. He remembered whom he came here for.

And when he opened the door to enter the music room, his suspicions were confirmed. Serge's slender fingers were practically gliding across the board. His eyes flickered open and closed every so often as if he were in a trance. Gilbert couldn't help but feel amazed by how focused he was yet how he seemed to easily know which key was which without looking.

The song came to an abrupt stop. Gilbert didn't even notice he was still staring at Serge until the noirette locked eyes with his. That familiar feeling of disgust he associated with him was beginning to come back; the only times they've ever looked at each other straight in the eye were the times Gilbert's hate towards him rose significantly.

"Did you enjoy my playing, Gilbert?" he asked, but he seemed to know the answer already. It was in the mischievous glint in his eyes that gave it away.

 _How annoying... But I have to be honest._ "I will say... that your skills on the piano have to be the one thing I don't find distasteful about you."

"Should I take that as a compliment, Gilbert?"

"Do so before I take it back. You won't be getting anything close to a compliment such as that out of me easily."

"I was expecting that." Serge pushed his seat back so he could stand up. He faced the blond and took a bow. "I'm glad I got to entertain you."

He wondered if this was all he wanted him for. "So, what, you brought me here to show off?"

"You could say that. Now that I've taken care of what I wanted to do, you have my full attention." Straightening up he shined a smile. "I'm at your disposal."

If he really was, he'd have him disposed in a trash can where he belonged. But he knew he could only go so far with Serge's promise of doing whatever he wanted today as long as they were together. As far as he knew, he had an idea as to where the limit was. The thought made him want to shudder.

He didn't, mind you. Rather, he tipped his head forward in understanding before turning his back to him. He didn't need to look back to see if he was being followed, for he could hear footsteps as well as irritating humming that was in tune to the song briefly played on the piano before.

 _Let's just get this over with..._

* * *

They ended up in the library. It was barely occupied, the most noise coming from whoever was put in charge of organizing the books today. Serge didn't seem surprised by this choice at all; he looked more bored than anything.

"Do you really intend on keeping me quiet for the rest of the day?" he whispered so as to avoid being told off by the librarian reading at the counter.

"Not everything is done with you in mind, you know," Gilbert countered. "I happen to be in need of a new book to read since I've already finished the one for our literature class."

"Ah, that _was_ a boring book..."

"I'll agree with you this once."

Gilbert made sure his roommate did as little as possible. He made him follow him around in the section for fictional works in search of a book that should occupy him until their literature class would switch out their assigned one for something different. He made him carry any books he found interesting so his hands were free to grab any more. When he felt satisfied after twenty minutes of looking, the two settled down at a table where the former got to reading. Serge was free to do some searching of his own or even choose something from the pile they had.

He didn't mind the way he was trying to bore holes at him despite the book in front of his face. He was far from being ignored, but he wasn't being bothered either. This was perfect for him to finally get the peace he was looking for. It became even more enjoyable when he heard a sigh of defeat and the pulling of a book from their stack followed by pages being flipped open.

They stayed like this for what he hoped was hours. Although he was engrossed in the plot line of his book, he couldn't help but feel wary about how fast time was really passing. For all he knew, he could feel like three hours have passed when only it's only been one. A minute could actually be a second in disguise. Or perhaps he was just paranoid, which seemed to be the most reasonable thought.

" _Psst... Gilbert..._ "

The blond jumped a little in his seat. He set his book face down faster than he expected of himself, but relaxed when he realized it was only Serge whispering to him. That's when he found himself irritated again as he wondered what he could possibly want.

But to his mild astonishment, only evidenced by his eyes widening only the slightest, his roommate was pointing at a section of a text in the book he must've been reading all this time. "Do you think you could explain this part to me? I grabbed this book on Ancient Greek poetry while you were looking around, and I'm trying to comprehend the ending to one of the poems."

Well, this was new for him. He didn't think he would receive such a serious request unless they were doing homework together. He may as well see what the great honor student Serge Battour was being stumped by, and so he nodded as a signal for the book to be passed over to him so he could read through the lines.

 _"Who this time am I to persuade_

 _to your love? Sappho, who is doing you wrong?_

 _For even if she flees, soon she shall pursue._

 _And if she refuses gifts, soon she shall give them._

 _If she doesn't love you, soon she shall love_

 _even if she's unwilling."_

 _Come to me now once again and release me_

 _from grueling anxiety._

 _All that my heart longs for,_

 _fulfill. And be yourself my ally in love's battle._

Gilbert blinked at what he read. "' _Ode to Aphrodite_ '," he muttered quietly. "I didn't think something like this would be allowed in a book in this school."

Serge tilted his head in genuine curiosity. "Why's that?"

"The poet behind this, Sappho, is famous for her works about her affection towards other women. It'd start a massive controversy in the school if word got out that she has a poem in that book you were reading, what with this being a Catholic school and all." He skimmed through the lines again. "Whoever's in charge of the delivery of books for the library must not have checked the content properly."

"I mean, who'd have the time to look through every single book here?"

" _Librarians doing their job_ ," he deadpanned.

Serge covering his mouth with a hand to muffle his laughter took Gilbert by surprise. Yes, he did mean what he said as a joke, but he didn't think the other would find it funny enough to laugh at. He cleared his throat to return to the original subject at hand.

"Anyways, I've seen this piece before. The second half of this stanza and the full one after that are Aphrodite's response to Sappho's prayer..."

He then went on about how the speaker in the poem is evidenced to have called for the goddess of love's help before and is in need of her once more, and how the latter was assuring her that the speaker's target of her unrequited affections would eventually return those feelings. All the while, he was aware of how Serge looked to be hanging on to his every word, grasping at whatever information he could give.

"... However, that's just my interpretation of this." The blond glanced up to see he was still being focused on. "Why was it that you, an honor student, couldn't figure out something as basic as my explanation?"

Serge didn't have any particular expression on his face. He didn't look bored or frustrated, not even cracking that signature smile of his. It was the first time his face looked so blank. Then, suddenly, his eyes cast downwards, giving a saddened appearance that he's never revealed around Gilbert before.

"Perhaps part of me didn't want to understand why it was so _relatable_."

Their moment in the library would one day be known as the first time the two shared a real conversation, one where neither were playing any games on the other. It was this point in time that Gilbert believed he actually got to sympathize with Serge.

* * *

For the rest of the day, Gilbert and Serge stayed in their dorm, the book of Ancient Greek poetry having been checked out under the latter's name and now under their care. As for the former, he didn't try prying into the meaning of his roommate's words back at the library. He shouldn't have to care about what he meant nor should he bother with trying to.

They were perfectly fine with continuing their first real conversation by moving on to their own interpretations of books both of them have happened to read. This was followed by looking back on earlier this morning when Serge was playing piano. It still impressed Gilbert to no end of how skilled he was.

"My father always loved it, even wanted to give up his future title as viscount if it meant being famous for being a pianist rather than for his status. Unfortunately, because of an illness and my grandfather's pressure, he couldn't bring himself to make that dream come true."

"Professor Watts mentioned knowing your father before."

"He didn't just know him, they and the music teacher Professor René were best friends. They go all the way back to being students at this very school." The noirette leaned back where he sat on his bed as the other was across from him. "I came here to fulfill my father's dream that's become my own. I've been told I've been playing as early as my toddler years and I picked up on doing so naturally, what is labeled as being a true prodigy. Supposedly I got that from my father as well, other than his personality. My mother would tell me all the time that I'm just like him, even before her own passing."

A child whose lost both his parents at such a young age... Gilbert couldn't help but compare such a past to his own. His mother despised him. She even threatened to go crazy and kill him if it weren't for her husband, who showed no care for him, moving her to India while he was left under the care of the Cocteau household's staff. In a way, he could see the similarity between them.

 _Oh, but it's not like he had someone like_ Auguste _around._ On the other hand, maybe he did. It would explain his two-faced behavior a lot.

Gilbert shifted where he sat, crossing his legs by the ankles on the floor. "It's almost like you've got your whole life planned out for you."

"You could say that, I guess."

His eyes narrowed. "Then why act so differently in secret?" He didn't want to get to the bottom of their talk in the library. No, that could wait for some other time if they were forced to spend time together like this again. It's not like he ever lost sight of just _who_ he was talking to, after all.

"Perfect honor student Serge Battour, heir to a grand life ahead of him, and on top of that a prodigy who has what it takes to become a great pianist one day. On the other hand, we have another half of Serge no one other than Blough and maybe some other upperclassmen knows about, who trades his knowledge for sex and even tests out his own voyeurism kink by purposely getting caught by his roommate. Something obviously went wrong."

By the look of heated anger entering dark brown eyes, he knew he was overstepping his boundaries, but that's what he wanted. Today was supposed to be _his day_ , and they both knew that Serge was... What was the phrase? Ah, right, it was "at his disposal". Might as well use those words against him.

The boy clenched his fists until his tanned knuckles turned white. His jaw tightened within seconds of realizing what was being asked of him. Gilbert was aware of how smart he was, but he's also analyzed how short-tempered he can be. It only made him easier to predict.

This sort of manipulation they used on each other was just what made it understandable for them to hate each other.

"W-What the hell, you _Miststück_?" he seethed, standing up. "How dare... How dare you stick your nose in my privacy-"

"'Privacy'? Don't make me laugh. From what I remember, _you_ were the one spilling your life story for _me_. All I did was ask one question... By the way, since I haven't called our time together off, that means we still get to do whatever I want."

A slight twitch under his right eye told him he was hitting the right marks. "No matter! It's still none of your business! If you're the one who wants me off your case, then how does that make it fair for you to be on mine?!"

"Like that's any of your-"

"'Business'? _Don't make me laugh._ " He even spoke in the same tone used to mock him. "Either you give me an explanation, or so help me this will only be the first of many days like this together."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Gilbert stood up as well, both sharing a glare at equal level despite their height difference. "Being the devil's incarnate that you make yourself out to be for me, you're probably willing to dedicate your life to making me miserable."

"As if I could bring myself to care about what you do."

"Then for whatever's sake, stop making _me_ care!"

For a brief minute, it was completely silent. Both parties had heaving chests and pure hate in their eyes - scalding brown against poisonous green. If only looks alone could kill either of them on the spot.

As expected, it was Serge who kept the air from turning stale. "What's that supposed to mean?" This time, his voice was much calmer, though still tense.

"... If I have to show you, then you're living proof that sex really does kill brain cells no matter how smart you are."

Before there could be any objection, the blond strode over until the two were right in front of each other. He didn't waste any second hesitating in grabbing the other by the collar of his shirt so they were staring directly eye to eye. He didn't care about how all the anger was lost to be replaced with shock from the suddenness of his actions. This only proved to make things easier.

Gilbert pressed his lips against Serge's no matter how disgusted he was by doing so. He expected the surprised "Mmph!" as well as the squirm to break free, which he put to rest by pulling back only to push him onto his back on his bed. There was no time for him to think as the link was established again.

Serge started shaking upon feeling pale lips move against his darker ones. The owner of these attackers internally smirked at this, at the feeling of his mouth slowly losing the resistance he was barely able to have up to begin with. With the two's eyes remaining wide open, he watched originally defiant brown ones first dull, then darken, and eventually close at the same time as Serge gave up.

Just as he thought. This boy really was a slave to pleasure.

He pulled back once more to breathe and stare down at his work. The noirette's arms laid limp at his sides, having never used them to fight back; were he to have used them, he could've gotten away. His eyelids remained closed and his lips were barely parted open as he took deep breaths of his own. All of this was accomplished with one kiss.

 _I guess I can understand what Blough sees in him_ , he thought to himself.

Underneath him, Serge had finally opened his eyes once more to look up at him, all traces of anger vanished, black pupils taking over most of the color. The tip of his tongue darted out to catch whatever taste of him he could get on his bottom lip. He remembered a similar face from when he found himself watching this one and their upperclassman have sex outdoors. Pure submission had taken the form of a human.

He watched him gulp before he parted his lips more to speak. " _Gilbert..._ " His voice sounded so _needy_ , making it evident that he was completely compliant now. "Gilbert, I-I-"

" _I hate you, Serge Battour._ " Those five words were all it took to shut him up. He then added, "And for the record, I refuse to let you make me into Sappho."

Gilbert got off of him to straighten out his slightly disheveled shirt without a care in the world. He had the right to be proud of himself. He brought Serge down into his most vulnerable state and _crushed him_. So, he chose not to bring himself to care any longer. He never minded when he was called the German equivalent of a "bastard" or how pissed off he became during their argument, nor did he mind how Serge was now sitting up and staring at his back whilst trying to shake off his sensitivity.

If this was what it took to finally get his point across, then so be it. There was never any chance to turn back to begin with. He was unaffected by that fact.

"Do you plan on going down for supper soon? If so, try to not look as unsightly as you do now, given you are quite popular and all that. Wouldn't want to disappoint the people who don't even know who you really are."

As Gilbert proceeded to leave Room 17, however, he heard Serge mutter something simple enough to translate based on the German dictionary he studied.

" _Du weißt nichts über mich._ "

 _You know nothing about me._


	3. Chapter 3

"You've been more eager than normal, Serge."

" _A-Ah!_ Is that s-so bad?"

Serge's eyes slipped closed so he could focus on Max inside him. By sitting on top, he felt every little movement whenever he adjusted his hips. Max was a good size, large enough to make him feel full, not too big as to make him feel uncomfortable. They've been together for over a month now; they knew each other's bodies fairly well. The amount of times they've had sex since their first together has given the receiver the time and experience for understanding the giver's effect on him.

He continued his steady pace of bouncing on his lap and allowed the release of soft moans here and there. He enjoyed the tug he feels from going up, but he liked how it pushes into him each time he went down much more. The head wasn't that bad, either, the way it rubbed against his insides. Every shift of his hips was made until it was pressing against a spot inside him that caused blotches of white to appear behind his eyelids.

"I don't mind it too much now that I get to see your face when you're like this. You react to me quite nicely."

The noirette's eyes opened halfway. "We haven't had the chance with midterms in the way. Now that they're over, I thought I'd repay you for doing so well." His condescending smile curled more into a smirk. "Aren't you a good boy, listening to my instructions carefully from our studies~"

Max only had to thrust up once, hitting that spot the other wanted to aim for, to make him wipe that look off his face. "Don't make me push you off. You're just as aware as I am that you're enjoying this more than I should, regardless who the attention is focused on here. You could say you've been craving me, but I don't have to satisfy you." He did nothing, however, at the sight of Serge's pleading expression, with wide doe eyes and a bottom lip being chewed on. Rather, he grabbed his hips and canted his own up so their thrusts met, the pace picked up into a quicker setting that had them both unable to speak.

It was true what he was saying, about Serge wanting this. Sunday mass had ended barely two hours ago when the two found each other amongst the crowds heading for the cafeteria for breakfast. He only took an apple with him to the A-Class dormitories where his upperclassman resided in his own private room. That was the only thing he ate before he suggested the "reward" for their tutoring sessions paying off during the midterm exams. Being honest with himself, he's admitted to still being hungry, but for something other than what the cafeteria had to offer.

Anything to drive away the ceaseless reminders of the previous day's events with his _awful roommate._

He closed his eyes tightly. Gilbert Cocteau's a horrible person. _Abschaum des erde_ \- scum of the earth. He hated the way he was taken advantage of, how he was brought down so easily. It made him feel like a real harlot, one who wasn't properly satisfied.

Yet the kiss he was forced into didn't disgust him like he thought it would. What threw him off was what he was told after being brought into a trance.

 _"I hate you, Serge Battour. I refuse to let you make me into Sappho."_

It made his blood boil, how Gilbert's voice rang in his ears even now. _What sort of person kisses another out of hate? Is he really that stupid?_ Not to mention how the other half to the declaration made no sense to him. He always despised things he did not understand right away. _Does he actually think he and Sappho have something in common, or is he just an idiot?_

His body focused on Max's thrusts and working towards reaching a climax, but his mind kept going straight back to the kiss. It conjured yesterday's image of him and Gilbert on his bed, himself trapped underneath when he could have easily pushed away. There was something about the taste of his lips that made him lose himself in such a short span of time.

He had to admit, his liking towards relinquishing control had certainly been appealed to. Max, in comparison, normally needed an extra push or vocalized directions if they wanted to get anywhere. The blond, though less threatening physically, had a way of manipulating him into doing things in his favor sometimes. He was quite intrigued by that.

Serge wondered then what it'd be like if they did things _other_ than kiss. He liked to imagine being pinned down on his bed, willingly spreading his legs wide and taking what was given to him. He figured he wouldn't get what he wanted easily; he'd be likely to resort to begging. Gilbert seemed like the kind of _arsch_ to do that to him. He'd put him so on edge he would have no other option than to seek him for relief. Not that he would mind.

Throwing his head back, he started to ride Max faster. The knot in his stomach only grew more and more. Why was it that imagining Gilbert in Max's place was bringing him closer than usual?

"Max... _Max_...!" he moaned, mouth agape. It was a name that now, for some reason, felt foreign on his tongue. "Max...! _Scheiße_...!"

He tapped back into his self-awareness to register his partner's shaking against him, his hands clamping down on his hips. Something slick was slipping out of him. _Oh, he already came. Rude._ But that didn't matter, he wouldn't be that far behind.

" _Come on, Serge, you've been good~ Almost there~_ "

Was that Max speaking or was he hallucinating Gilbert's voice? He'd rather not open his eyes to find out.

One more push down was all it took for him to finally finish. His hips twitched and his thighs ached, yet he couldn't care at this moment. As he felt the hands on him pull him forward, one guiding his head towards a kiss, he found himself only capable of muttering one thing but thinking about another.

"Max..."

 _Gilbert..._

* * *

Nightfall arrived by the time Serge woke up. Based on how he looked in the mirror when he got out of bed, Max had cleaned and dressed him while he was asleep before he left. He took to staring out the window for a bit, at how the sky had already become a deep purple that would soon turn to a dark blue. Snow fell in light sprinkles outside.

He looked at the clock. Half past five, just about time for supper. Given the location of the A-Class dormitories, he should make it to the dining hall within five minutes if he walked through the snow quick enough.

"I should have something light," he told himself as he put on his jacket that was folded over the chair by Max's desk. Then he laced the ribbon tie around his shirt collar. "A salad and water so I won't get dizzy, an egg for protein, a dinner roll to regain my energy..." Picking up his Bible off the desk, where he left it this late morning, he set to putting on his shoes. He made a quick glance at the trash bin where the core of his apple from earlier laid. "Fruits, as my sweet component, in place of dessert."

The walk to the cafeteria took as long as he expected, and by the time he was inside and bombarded by his classmates and underclassmen for his whereabouts before this time, he had already come up with the excuse to sate their worries. According to him, someone pulled him aside to review his midterm scores and give studying advice, and in doing so the noirette fell asleep in the midst of them taking a break. This gave his crowd the assurance they wanted, especially when coupled with his signature smile that fooled them, thus allowing him to return his focus back to getting himself something to eat.

Once he had his tray of food, he looked around for a place to sit. There were plenty of available spots at currently occupied tables, though none of them seemed appealing to him.

 _Kurt and Nekka tend to throw food at each other at their table, and Jonathan's group is always so loud. I could always sit by myself, but that could attract unwanted company. I'd rather find a table with people I can actually tolerate-_

" _Serge!_ Oi, Serge!"

 _Well, speak of the devil._ Quickly putting on his usual bright smile, he turned his head in the direction of Pascal's voice. From where he stood he could make out him and Karl with a table to themselves. _Even better._

He made the short trip from his point to theirs. "Apologies for being so late," he started. "I was called in for a last-minute tutoring-" He stopped right before the table, stared down at a head of golden hair and into the green eyes of the boy sitting across from his friends. "-session..."

For a moment, he lost his smile. Gilbert Cocteau only sent back a blank stare, then turned away to return to his food. Pascal fixed his glasses as he looked back and forth between them.

"Something wrong, Serge?" he asked, to which the one in question had to prevent himself from jumping in shock. "What, did you two get in a fight or something?"

 _You could say that..._

Karl cleared his throat to grab his attention next. "The truth is, we've noticed that you two don't interact with each other as roommates normally do. Out of all this week, the one time anyone saw you two together was yesterday and that was it. As dorm dean, it's my duty to make sure everyone is getting along, so I invited Gilbert to meet with us."

Usually Serge would get frustrated - mad, even - when someone tried to meddle with his personal affairs. But never with Karl, it seemed; Karl was too sincere a person to be mad with, too pure of heart, his intentions always for others' sake. It was the same with Pascal, for despite how strange and complex his science-obsessed his mind was, Serge couldn't deny he was an intelligent young man who was highly observant. They were the only two fellow students he'd come to genuinely like here, which was why he considered them his closest friends.

Then again, this was his relationship with _Gilbert_ they were butting into. Just as his roommate did not want anything to do with him, he's come to despise being anywhere within his proximity. Sleeping in the same room is becoming more and more unbearable, even when their fallout was yesterday.

Fall tot, Cocteau - _drop dead, Cocteau._

He took a deep breath, however, and shined another smile, albeit less full than what he'd give. "I believe you are mistaken, Karl," he said, voice clear and devoid of his growing anger. He even made the effort to sit down beside Gilbert. "You know how busy I've been, studying for midterms and helping others study. When I realized how much it was making me neglect Gilbert, we decided to spend the afternoon together yesterday to make up for lost time." He waited for them to take the bait as they always did.

And Gilbert just _had_ to start laughing. Light as it was, his shoulders barely shaking, it was still enough to provoke his friends' interest.

 _Stop ruining this,_ Miststück _._

When it ceased, the blond looked at the boys, but more specifically at Serge. Amusement lit up in his eyes. He must be having fun, screwing around with him like this.

"Oh, sorry, I was simply remembering yesterday's _fun_ ," he explained. "Serge playing the piano for me, reading in the library... We got to know each other quite well." Propping his arms on the table by his elbows, pale fingers laced together to provide a resting place for his chin. "Closer than ever, I hope."

"But of course, Gilbert." _I see what you're doing. So be it, let's make this worthwhile._

The two put on a show for Karl and Pascal. Every now and then they'd glance at each other, sparks of abhorrence in their eyes passed off as that of friendliness with ease. Serge's practiced smile highlighted the slight raise in the corners of Gilbert's lips. The lights directly above their table felt like spotlights for this pair of actors. As long as they kept their act up over the course of their supper, their audience appeared to be satisfied.

 _We're both good liars, Gilbert. See how they believe us?_ The noirette communicated this to his roommate with his gestures alone - a seemingly unimportant nudge of his fork against a lettuce shred in his salad, pointed in his friends' direction, along with tiny hum. An acknowledging nod in return was passed off as a dip Gilbert's head to look down at his food.

His next thoughts he kept to himself. _I'd ask what you've been through get so good at lying that you can only be recognized by another liar such as myself, though I know you wouldn't tell me. Regardless, I can see that we make an interesting duo. Such a shame that you disgust me._

 _Even after this morning?_ a small voice in his head asked.

Insignificant as it was, it was pushed down with the memories it tried to stir in his head. It was bound to come back later, more prominent than now, however he could care less. To him, what mattered was the minutes he had left until then. He was going to allow neither Gilbert nor his own minuscule conscience put a damper in his night.

* * *

 _Serge sat in the audience with a front row seat for tonight, an indifferent expression on his face as he watched the events unfold._

 _He was in his bedroom at the Battour estate. The skies outside his windows depicted a starless nighttime, moonlit beams washing the walls in a milky white, yet his seat was placed in the shadows by his dresser where he would be unseen. Everything else was under the moon's spotlight._

 _Long ago, he used to love the nighttime. He used to beg his mother and father to let him go stargazing when they were alive. After they both died and he had moved here, he would stay up late on his balcony to soak in the breathtaking skies such as the one tonight. Whether there were seas of stars or a blank black canvas did not matter to him. He remembered how the beauty of a dark empty sky was stripped away from his ideals, replaced by detest and a hidden fear, which was why he began to prefer sunsets instead._

 _Two figures, one large and one small, were settled on the bench in front of the grand piano within this room. It was right by the windows of the doors to the balcony, giving a perfect view of them both when the moonlight shone on them. The larger one belonged a young man, no older than his twenties it seemed, well dressed even with his jacket lying on the bed nearby._

 _As for the other, it was a ten-year-old boy, one whose dark skin appeared pale in the moonlight. His eyelids were shut as his nimble fingers danced on the piano's keys. Soft melodies poured out smoothly and produced a song delighting them both._

 _With the song accentuating this beautiful night, Serge recalled how much he loved playing the piano at this time. Neither of his aunts minded him practicing in his room on the condition that his playing should not take away from his bedtime. Because he's broken that rule a few times on accident in the past, they employed his private tutor, who normally stayed in the house until the late afternoon, to begin watching over him for extra pay._

 _This man, sitting beside the his child self, had declined the offer for the raise, insisting that Serge was always such a promising student that he felt this was no problem._

 _"You improve with every night," he pointed out to him after the song ended. "Taking after your father in every way."_

 _The current-aged Serge's fingers twitched while his hands remained folded on his lap. From what he recalled, this man was an underclassman of his father's back in their school days. They weren't particularly close back then, but the admiration towards his father was still there. When word got out that his aunts were seeking a private tutor for him, this man was the first to come. He was accepted for the job right away and it had been that way for a couple years after._

 _"_ Dankeschön _, Professor," his younger self said in response. He raised his hands from the keys to close them for the night. "It's simply because I'm able to practice so much that I improve. It may perhaps take years before I can live up to Father's skills."_

 _"Oh, don't say that! If anything, I believe you're right up to par with him, maybe even above!"_

 _"Professor, you flatter me... Really, I'm not worth the praise..."_

 _His tutor sighed. "Must you doubt yourself all the time? Everything about you is perfect."_

 _The small noirette looked up at him with his doe-like eyes. They were wide and uncertain. "Including my skin...?"_

 _Serge's façade faltered and was to be replaced by a genuine, sympathizing gaze. He wished he could break away from his seat and hug the child. He wanted to show him who he would grow up to be some day, show how his skin color did nothing to prevent him from achieving excellence in his academics and pursuing a career with the piano. The child deserved to know that he was capable of proving those who looked down on him wrong, gypsy blood he damned._

 _But he was not permitted to, for this was meant to be the memory that would set up how he would turn out to be in the future. Changing the past was impossible._

 _Fortunately, his tutor shared the look on his face, the uneasiness that came with the question. Now older, he'd come to understand why he was looked at this way as a child._

 _He, too, would have told his younger self that he should embrace the skin inherited from his mother, just as his tutor did in this memory._

 _"... She must've been a gentle woman, your mother."_

 _"Very much so, but she also showed her pride in being who she was... I should be proud, too."_

 _"Absolutely right, Serge! The things you've told me about her, how she was kind and loving - that's how you take after her, so there's nothing wrong with having her pride as well."_

 _"You're right._ Dankeschön _, Professor."_

 _His child self had only meant to grab his tutor's hand to shake it. The latter, on the other hand, held it with a grip firmer than what he'd expected. Maybe it was because Serge's spot on that bench was by the windows, allowing the moonbeams to bring out the way his dark eyes glittered with newfound hope and how it captured the glossiness of his raven curls. Maybe it was the way he sat on that bench with his legs shifted towards the older man, a knee bumping against his, them sitting too close to each other yet not minding it. Maybe it had something to do with the fact he was dressed in only his nightshirt because he was expected to go to bed right after his practice._

 _It had to have been for all of those reasons, the older Serge decided, that when his hand was captured by his tutor's, the same went for his lips not even a second later for the first time._

 _Unfolding his hands and removing them from his lap, he clenched them into fists against his chest as he looked away from the scene before him. "_ Nicht mehr _," he whispered under his breath, barely voiced, feeling his chest tighten._ No more. _"_ Das ist genug. _"_ That's enough.

 _Following the night of his first kiss would then come others similar, where at a steady pace he was taught more than just how to kiss. Once precious to him, the nighttime was, until after this night, this memory tainting his once innocent past._

* * *

Serge woke up with a jolt coursing through his spine a half hour before his alarm clock would go off. He sat up in his bed and let his eyes adjust to his surroundings. The most prominent of what he recognized was the morning sunlight peeking from the gray clouds outside, pouring through the window, lighting up the room. Letting out a deep sigh of relief, his tense body relaxed. He liked the sunlight, so he was grateful for being bathed in it this morning.

Then, he turned his head towards where his roommate laid still asleep. Unlike himself, Gilbert's side of the room remained covered by shadows. It bemused him - to think he once preferred the darkness as well.

He shook his head. _Dwelling on my dreams won't get me anywhere_ , he thought. _I mustn't allow that, lest I let it ruin my mood today._ As he proceeded to get out of bed and dress himself for another ordinary school day, he meanwhile took his time staring out the window.

* * *

Before anyone knew it, the final week of school passed, and winter break had begun. Almost every student was gone by nightfall after church ended, having already had their suitcases packed and themselves prepared to file into carriages that would take them to the train station or their homes themselves. Whoever stayed behind were either planning to leave the next morning or later afterwards, or simply had nowhere else to go except on school grounds.

That being said, Serge was one of those still at school for the former reason. The moment Pascal heard he wasn't going to leave for the sole purpose of continuing his studies, the young man refused to let that happen. Rather, he insisted on having him be a guest in the Biquet household for at least until the holidays passed, and there was no way he could say no to his close friend. He then made sure to have his suitcase packed for their departure in the morning.

After that was done with, he chose to visit Max in his room one more time, for the latter would be leaving tonight along with some friends of his.

"You sure you'll be fine without me?" he said, straddling the taller one's lap on his bed, grateful for the latter's roommate already being gone. They had considered doing something quick, though then they decided against it, as it would be a hassle to change clothes with what little time they had left.

Max had his arms wrapped around his thin waist, their bodies pressed closely together. His larger body encompassed his own with ease. "A dry spell will be maddening without you to relieve it, but I'll manage. I'll return after the break ends and I won't be able to keep my hands off you for a week or more. Doesn't that sound nice?"

" _Wunderbar~_ " Serge took to playing with the other's hair, looping his fingers about each individual brunet wave. "What about _me_ , Max?"

"What _about_ you?"

"It'll be the same for me, you know, and you know how _needy_ I get." They locked eyes, and Serge gave a sorrowful look. "I'm not that good at containing myself for very long."

"You wish to _cheat on me_?"

"Oh, don't put it like that. No one can compare to how good you make me feel. I just need to find someone to act as a poor substitute for you while we're apart. Surely you might have a friend I can meet with over the break that you can trust to treat me right."

"Don't you have a roommate? That boy- Cocteau, was it? He's seems dispensable enough."

The noirette let out a sigh to express his discontent - or the surface of his annoyance with that proposal, at the least. He came here to forget everything else before his leave tomorrow, especiallythat _abschaum_ of a roommate. Gilbert should _not_ be brought up right now; the mention of him alone was putting a dent in his once calm mood.

He was made happy again when Max seemed to catch this change and made it up to him with a kiss on the forehead. "It's not like I haven't considered my roommate," he assured, "it's just that that was a long time ago, before you and I got together. Since then, he and I haven't been able to see many things eye to eye. We'd rather not interact while we have so much freedom away from each other now."

For a moment he looked away from Max with a downward tilt of his head. He thought to the time a week ago when Gilbert plagued his mind at the worst of times. The heat of the moment had gotten to him that time, and he ended up climaxing while thinking about the wrong person. He was frustrated with himself for imagining such things when he had Max taking care of him. What was worse was that as disgusted as he was, he couldn't find himself regretting it.

Gilbert Cocteau should die for interfering with his thoughts, for undoing his past near two months of undisturbed sexual pleasure with his lips. He hated the way they tasted sweet like nutmeg and cinnamon with a fruity hint, like the fresh apple strudels his mother used to bake for him as a child. He hated how the cologne he seemed to wear smelled of blooming spring flowers and how the scent was part of distracting him enough to succumb to the kiss. He hated himself for liking all of that.

And _those words_ \- _"I refuse to let you make me into Sappho"_ \- _god_ how he wanted to figure out just what he meant by that. His busy schedule hasn't given him the time to contemplate it, though he supposed he had it now. He could look back through the Ancient Greek poetry book he had recently renewed for borrowing from the library since he hasn't touched it at all after he checked it out.

Serge left Max so they could both make their final preparations for their own departures, and he headed back to Room 17 by himself. Once he arrived, however, he found the door having a slight opening, revealing the light from the room. As he got closer, a voice other than Gilbert's reached his ears. Curiosity took over and he stood right outside the door to listen in.

" _Monsieur Beau has not heard from you for months, Cocteau._ "

" _That is no longer my problem. If Auguste wants to hear from me, he should come here and face me himself like a man._ "

Serge blinked. The former's voice belonged to the school's superintendent Arión Rosemarine. He's met him only a couple times, the older student having come by to congratulate him for topping him in exam scores. His colleagues have informed him of his status as the "White Prince" who enforces the rules of Lacombrade Academy with an iron will, which proved to be true with each of their brief meetings. Just his presence has been enough to intimidate even Serge.

 _Him finding out about me would disturb my reputation... But enough about me. Why's he here to speak to Gilbert? Who's Auguste Beau?_

"'Like a man', you say? It's you who has not been returning your guardian's letters. You're causing him unnecessary stress."

"He should have thought of that before he actually learned to care about me. If he sent you to scold me, surely you can relay a message to him for me if he wants a response so badly." There was a soft, exasperated sigh. "This is my answer: _I will not return to Marseilles and that's final_. Please let him know that."

"You are in no position to have me do-"

"On the contrary, I am, as his relative whom he worries about so much. Rosemarine, you owe me this much after... after _that_."

Serge heard Rosemarine let out a choked grunt, but then he seemed to concede. "... Very well, I shall give him your message. This evens us out... Enjoy your winter here, Gilbert. I will alert the chefs staying here that there is one more mouth to feed."

"Thank you..."

Quickly retreating back whence he came and around the corner, Serge waited for the superintendent to leave Room 17 before he made his appearance. He gave him a respectful bow that was dismissed with an acknowledging hum. After he was gone, his whole body released his pent-up tension.

He went back down the hall, but did not enter the room immediately. Gilbert was on the other side. He was hiding secrets just like him, neither was better than the other. _Auguste Beau_ was a name that sounded familiar, and to hear that that man was Gilbert's guardian made this more interesting.

They should both prepare themselves, he decided. Serge wanted payback for his humiliation. Gilbert may appear to have a liking towards shadows, but Serge was ready to yank him out into the light.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** Quick apology for taking such a long time, but at least it's up now! I've noticed that Gilbert's POV is much more scattered than Serge's, but hopefully his side will be more organized as the two's backstories start to tie together and are further developed.

* * *

Arles looked the prettiest at night when it was lit up for the week of Christmas, the gas lamps warming the streets everywhere, about every window of every building with their curtains open to reveal their own lights shining through. All of the lights flashed onto piles of snow and made them shimmer like crystals. It reflected the growing joy among the townspeople with the holidays coming soon.

The town's open market along the streets was no different in taking part in the merriment. Vendors who normally sold fruits and vegetables switched to candies and baked goods. Some handed out cups of hot cocoa or cider, others soup to fight off the cold. Poinsettias and wreaths decorated every table. The town's center was the stage for carolers, standing right before the large, meticulously decorated Christmas tree.

By himself, Gilbert was able to enjoy the carefree atmosphere. Currently he was dressed in black trousers and a dark green sweater over a white collared shirt, everything covered by a dark gray overcoat, accessorized with a white scarf wrapped around his neck. He should be able to tolerate the cold for a while if he were to take shelter soon after, or at the very least purchase something warm for himself, and he had plenty of options to choose from; he needed it more for his hands, as he had forgotten his gloves back at the school, and they would have been nipped by the cold if not for stuffing them into his coat's pockets.

He at one point entered the nearest cafe along the sidewalk to take a break from his stroll. He removed his hands from his pockets, rubbed them together in a vigorous motion as he let a host lead him to a table he requested for. The place had a crowd of a moderate size, nothing too big nor small, filled with people young and old alike.

Within his peripheral vision from his table were a group of boys he recognized to be from the school, ones who, like him, decided to stay at Lacombrade Academy for the winter break. He recognized two or three from Class B, same as himself, and the rest looked to be upperclassmen. He noticed the number of glasses on their table. As much as he wanted a sip of alcohol as well, it would be best to stay sober for the carriage ride back to the school - that, and he was not yet eighteen, so he would not have been able to order anything strong enough for his tastes on his own in the first place.

Soon a mug of spiced _non-alcoholic_ apple cider warmed the hands wrapped around it, relaxing them until they did not feel as numb as they were growing to be on the way here. They raised it and swirled it slowly, green eyes entranced by the cinnamon stick rotating in the drink. Gilbert, now with his coat folded over his chair, let a few minutes pass before he took a sip. He sighed after he swallowed and silently reveled in the burst of apples and cinnamon on his tongue. The noise about him had been drowned out by the satisfied hum he gave afterwards-

" _Is that you, Cocteau?!_ "

He nearly choked and spit out what he was in the middle of drinking when he heard a shout directed towards him. He turned his head enough so one eye could peek past his bangs and at the group of boys he saw when he first entered the cafe. The ones from his class were staring right back at him and waving their arms. It was obvious it was with the intent of persuading him to come over.

So he did. He only did so because he was not in the mood to argue as of now. Just to soothe his nerves, he brought his drink with him. He already had to take a long sip at the sound of their cheering from his arrival.

"You're here by yourself?" one of them asked. They all seemed bewildered by this idea of being alone, but it was to be expected given it was almost Christmas.

"Everyone was gone, so I decided I'd go out as well," Gilbert said. "It gets boring when you're at school for too long. You all should know that if you're here."

"I'll drink to that!" With an upperclassman's statement, the group raised their glasses and took another sip of their drinks. Gilbert hid his wrinkling nose with another sip of his cider. He could smell the brandy and hard cider from their breaths.

One of them got out of his seat to grab the newcomer's coat and chair from the other table in order to add him into the party, much to his dismay. What does it take to get some peace away from other people around here? Nonetheless, he figured he'd humor them with his presence. They'll learn on their own that having him around isn't worth the trouble.

The upperclassman who initiated the unceremonious toast scooted aside to let him sit down. "So, Cocteau, what're you staying at the school for this time? The past winter breaks since you've been there, you've never gone home."

"My uncle is too busy to celebrate the holidays, as always. I figured I may as well use this time to make sure I don't fall back on my studies."

"He's like that every year, huh?"

"It's not like Monsieur Beau can help it, being such a famous up-and-coming poet and all," another student noted.

Gilbert shrugged. "I'm used to it by now. He's always been this way." _He's only been willing to pay attention to me as of recently._

He expected the sympathetic gazes laid upon him. He thought nothing of it. These were people who chose to stay at school on their own free will, whereas he had no other choice but to stay, his legal guardian busy or not.

"Isn't it sad that you can't go home, Cocteau?"

"Like I said, I'm used to it. We both understood how much work he has to take on, how hard it is to maintain his social status. He can't afford to care." _He couldn't till now._

A classmate patted his shoulder gently, then retracted his hand. He recalled his first year here when he was eleven and how he was quick to warn others that he was not fond of casual touches. To think at least one of them would have taken this to mind, unless he was reading into it too much. Keeping a fair distance from everyone else has brought the expected disadvantage of being unable to predict how others will act towards him.

"Sounds lonely, but there's nothing to worry about now. You can spend Christmas in the common room at school with us, and we can come back here whenever we like before our break ends. Let's make the most of having the school to ourselves till then!"

The boys joined their drinks in the center for one more toast with a delighted cheer. This time, Gilbert chose to join them, raising his mug to gently clink against the glasses. Pulling away right afterwards to finish the last of his hot cider, he avoided the looks of glee. He'd humor them for now. They know nothing. All of this was only from the good mood Christmas was already bestowing. After this, he'd go back to being ignored, not that he minded. It'll be a nice change of pace from his usual routine of solitary. Even he needs to step out into the light once in a while.

* * *

By Christmas evening, Gilbert could not recall the last time he admitted to enjoying the holidays and meaning it. In the morning after Christmas mass, the boys from his class surprised him in their common room with chocolates they had bought in Arles (that he did not eat right away, for he lacked the sweet tooth for them, but he appreciated the gesture). He didn't participate in their games in the snow - it had taken them an extra box of chocolates to bribe him into joining them outside alone, and he only took them in honor of the holiday - though was thoroughly entertained by their antics and complete disregard of the idea of getting sick, and with this he ended up watching them in peace and at one point even acting as a referee for a couple rounds. When evening came they found the chefs at the school had prepared for everyone that remained a small feast. They all gathered at one long table made up of smaller ones, spending a good hour or so partaking in the lighthearted merriment filled with the scent of roasted meats, laughter ringing, and sudden bursts of carols here and there.

Right before he'd entered Room 17, Gilbert was returning from a brief last meeting in the Class B common room that took place after supper, where one of them shared a bottle of brandy he somehow managed to sneak into the school. He himself settled with one glass when he knew well enough that he could finish up to more than three with ease unlike his classmates who were dizzy after a single sip. On the other hand, if he did show off, he would then incite tests of courage in the form of drinking games, and he had no intentions of waking up the next day to the magic of the holidays fading with a splitting headache the way the others would be cursed to. It was nearing ten at night when he got back to his room to get ready for bed. More than enough time was left for him to reflect on not only the day but his surroundings.

As it was in the beginning of the school year and a long time before then, the bed across from his own was empty. There were only two more weeks left of the break before everyone returned for the new semester. He's reveled in his time away from Serge to the fullest and would continue to do so until the end. He wanted the break to be extended for this reason, he could go for much longer without that demon in his life just fine.

 _That's only wishful thinking, though_ , he reminded himself. _Once he's back, it'll all return to how it was before. He will still be a thorn in my side and no one will ever understand that._ Simply imagining that overly saccharine smile sent him shivers, but it was not enough to soil his mood.

The lamps were turned off, blanketing him in the shadows. He did not go to bed right away, instead choosing to stare out the window uncovered by the curtains on the sides. For a time he watched the snow fall, which calmed the last of his nerves for the night, and only then did he make his way to curl up under his bed and fall asleep. He had no dreams this Christmas night, the perfect way to end it.

* * *

"Did you miss me, Gilbert?"

"Who do you take me for, Serge?"

Unfazed, the beaming noirette opened his suitcase on his bed so he could unpack. He had arrived earlier this morning alone, having left Pascal back at the Biquet house to stay with his family for the final few days of their winter break. He and Gilbert engaged in a nonchalant conversation since neither of them had anything to do. This was, however, less the start of any sort of comfort they'd find in each other, and more the rediscovery of tolerance in each other's presence. The latter roommate wondered if the spirit of New Year's from the previous week was still affecting him.

He looked to the German language books stacked in the corner of his desk and figured so. After they parted ways for the break, he continued to study German in his free time, having found a use for it other than to know when he was being ridiculed. Besides his studies in Latin and the little bits of English he was taught by private tutors growing up, all he knew was his native language of French, so to have knowledge of another foreign language under his belt would prove to be useful for him in the long run. It has proven to be the most difficult to learn so far, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. He could only hope now that his roommate would not get the wrong idea upon seeing them as they were in plain view.

Speaking of which, the very devil was sure to reestablish his presence by closing his luggage rather loudly. "So! How was your break, Gilbert?"

"Adequate, I suppose." _Beyond adequate, because you weren't there to ruin it._ "... I take that your stay with the Biquet family was enjoyable."

"Yes, indeed! Oh, that reminds me! Pascal's sister claims to know you. She asked for me to tell you she says hello."

"Patricia? To think she'd remember me..." Having only engaged in very light conversations the occasional times they had met by chance on family visitation days in the past, he was surprised to learn she considered herself friendly with him. Not that he minded - it wasn't like she was in any way a friend, more so an acquaintance. "Well, I'll make sure to write to her; it's the least I can do before she comes by in the spring."

"You mean the family visitation days? Karl told me about them and how they take place at least two weeks before our final exams."

"Yes, that's what I was referring to..."

At that time, Gilbert found himself staring idly out the window. It had stopped snowing some time after Serge's return. Light gray clouds filled the sky, but through them came gentle sunlight to reflect on the snow, giving the ground a bejeweled appearance. He could tell by the swaying branches of the surrounding trees that the wind wasn't too bad as of now.

Serge seemed to have figured out where his attention lied, for soon enough he was standing right beside him and doing the same thing. "I'm not one for the wintertime, but I do love the snow when there's daylight. Don't you, Gilbert?"

"As much as I think the same way, I prefer the nighttime."

"I see... Maybe I should stay up some time and see that view for myself. You know how I like to go to bed early, after all."

He said nothing in response to that, eyes remaining glued to the window. His roommate, staying up late? Even when knowing the nature of his relationship with Max Blough, Serge still followed the routines of a proper student, always returning to their room before roll call at curfew, only spending an hour or less right after that to finish homework or study and then retire for the night. He never snuck out, knowing so himself due to being a light sleeper most nights, and somehow he was always awake before their alarm clock would go off.

While he hated to admit it, he did feel a slight pang of jealousy. They had almost the exact same class schedule and yet Serge's efforts were much more profound, as if it was all natural to him. His studying and sleeping habits were ideal at their age in spite of their graduation still being a couple years away. Meanwhile, in comparison, he himself would study until it was close to midnight at times and still be in the middle of the pack when it came to passing grades.

"... Serge..." he uttered, too soft to hear even with the two standing mere feet from each other. For now, they weren't enemies. He figured he could talk to him as a fellow classmate. That alone should be a satisfying way to coexist. "Serge... Can I-"

" _Pascal knows._ "

 _... What?_

The blond tore his gaze away from the window to focus on his roommate, who had replaced his full smile with a thin line for a grin. He had an index finger twirling a raven curl over and over, a flicker of an underlying emotion coming to light up his own eyes. It was plain to see that he was amused by the other's reaction. Bringing something like this up now was intentional.

"Really... he knows?" he slowly replied. "He knows... that you mean to have the rest of this school fooled into believing you're some saintly student, that you're involved with Blough."

"Yes."

"He knows that you've been lying to him and Karl for the past four months now."

"Yes, and he took it quite well, contrary to whatever you may be thinking."

And he was indeed thinking about what would be the most appropriate reaction in this case - an outburst of some sort about how misleading he's been, an initial inability to handle the truth. But, this was _Pascal Biquet_ they were now talking about, and that young man was nowhere close to being that predictable. A realist, he must have given an enlightened hum at best.

"Does he plan on telling Karl?"

"No, I want to tell him myself someday, just not yet. He's a very close friend, yes, but he's too attached to the Church's teachings that he would most likely have a heart attack if I told him as suddenly as I did with Pascal."

Gilbert was surprised with himself - he didn't even have the urge to narrow his eyes at him. He was overtaken by a strange feeling concern. Whether it was for Pascal, Karl, or how this would relate back to himself, he couldn't point it out even if he tried.

"You say it was sudden... How did it happen?"

"Why do you think I'll tell you, Gilbert?"

"Because you wouldn't have mentioned the nature in which you told him if you weren't planning on giving me details in the first place, _Serge_."

There was that mischievous gleam in those deceitful doe eyes of his, a very familiar look after the time they've spent together. "Fine, I'll admit that you're right about that...

"His family threw a party the night of Christmas. Pascal and I retired early to be alone after he put his little brother to bed, but his mother let us share a bottle of wine in his bedroom. We didn't drink much, especially on his part, just enough to let us wind down for the night. We started talking about marriage and about the necessity of love between two people to make a marriage work... Then I kissed him."

He stopped playing with his hair, moving back to sit on his bed and thus breaking their eye contact. "I blamed it on the alcohol, but he was able to tell I wanted to see his reaction in that moment. That's when I told him everything, and in the end, he didn't yell at me or scowl at me, not like how _you_ did." Nothing in response. "All he did was tell me that if Max and I ever break up, I can't count on him to cry to; that, and I'm allowed to ask him for another kiss in the future as long as he gets to be there when I finally tell Karl."

 _... I see, so that's your limit. You don't mind me or your friends knowing about this, but anyone else is out of the question._ The blond sensed the air in the room grow heavy as he could practically feel that grin curl into that fiendish smirk. Who was he to think that they would _ever_ be true roommates? He was oblivious when he thought so upon their first meeting, and to know what face laid behind that mask should have decimated that ideal. He disliked cold weather yet he'd much rather be outside than in here any longer.

So, he did just that. He left his spot before the window to pick up his jacket and scarf, then proceeded towards the door. Upon being inquired as to where he was leaving their room for all of a sudden, he said nothing... at first.

"Confession. No need to fret, though; I won't be saying anything about this." _Even if I speak the truth, anyone would take your words over my own anyways._

* * *

Again, Gilbert regretted not making sure his gloves were in his jacket pocket prior to leaving the room, but it was already too late to go back for them. By the time he realized he forgot them, he was standing in front of the entrance to the cathedral. The doors were unlocked yet remained closed to keep the winter wind from blowing out the candles inside.

He was tempted to leave. This was the _last_ place he wanted to be. He had actually wanted to find some shadowy place and stay there for a while. Knowing Serge, though, he wouldn't be allowed to find any solace now that Pascal knew, so he had to compromise. At least here, as uncomfortable as he always was whenever he'd pass through those doors, he had a better chance of being alone with his thoughts until their school's priest would invite him to confession.

The priest wasn't busy this time, unfortunately. He was finishing up lighting all of the candles when Gilbert opened the doors wide enough to let himself in. They made eye contact, the former then nodding his head in the direction of the confessional booths to which the latter began to make his way towards. He expected the Bible sitting on his side of the wooden counter, waiting for someone like him to rest his hand upon it. He secluded himself within the booth while a quiet sigh left his lips.

Last time he voluntarily came for confession, it was almost a year ago, in the springtime...

 _"I repent everything!"_

He took a seat by the counter, where the priest was sitting in the divided booth beside him.

 _"God can strike me dead for all I've done and I won't mind it! Just please... please..."_

A pale white hand - remaining steady, unlike how it was during his last confession - was placed on the Bible.

 _"Please... tell me it's not too late for me start my life over... I want to overcome this!"_

Closing his eyes, for he refused to look in the eye of this man who has heard him sob before, he readied his heart.

 _"I don't need to be forgiven, not as long as I can keep myself away from **that man**!"_

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** This wasn't my ideal ending point for this chapter, but I think this is a good segway into Gilbert's backstory, which is going to be the main focus for next chapter. For now, I hope you all enjoyed this, and I'll make sure to not take so long this time!


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